I Hope That Mask Grows To Fit
by Recidivism
Summary: He will protect his brothers. (He will hurt himself in the process.) He will shelter them from the raging storms and the burning sun. (He will inflict wounds of his own making.) He will do anything to never let their smiles and laughter die out. (Even if it means never seeing that smile directed towards him again.) He will become anything for them, even a monster. Male oc.


I Hope That Mask Grows To Fit

Warnings: This is a male oc story, and there may or may not be slight slash in the unforeseeable future. People will get hurt. People will die. The oc isn't a nice person, and is more than just a little fucked up in the head. When he wants to accomplish something, he will do it, regardless of how he does it.

Current Timeline: When Luffy, Ace and Sabo are kids.

I probably shouldn't be working on this when I've still got so many more unfinished projects, but the idea kept hounding me.

Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece.

Chapter Rating: T

Further comments: For those of you who read my other fanfic, I'm sorry.

Don't kill me.

On another note, the start of the story may seem depressing, but whether the oc actually dies or not is up for discussion.

* * *

 _"We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin."_

 _~ André Berthiaume_

* * *

 **Marineford: Ace's Execution**

It is raining at Marineford. Yuurei shivers in his kimono. He hides underneath his coat that preaches justice, and smiles as he slowly slices apart the bodies of his enemies with paper. His smile is a lie.

The red is everywhere. It is splattered on his clothes, hair, and face. His paper fan is covered entirely with it. He tries his best to keep his hands clean, and he almost succeeds, but the red drips from his fan to his white, pristine gloves, ruining his efforts. Yuurei gives up. Even his flames are red, he notes. Red and black.

He dispels the illusions of death and blood. Bodies fall to the ground around him, some writhing in fear and others gasping and screaming for mercy. Their blood paints the ground around them red, but they are alive. Yuurei's gloves are still clean.

Deed done, he saunters away to the next batch of unfortunate victims. His smile is gentle as he dispatches his foes, but there is nothing gentle about the way he leaves bodies littered on the ground in his wake of destruction, nothing gentle about how every flick of his fan leaves wounds that are aimed not to kill, but to hurt. He doesn't take any lives, but his mercy is a mockery to all those who falls to his weapons of paper, faux kindness, and illusions mixed with lies. Every step he takes scorches the ground with red and black fire, yet it does not burn the human skin, but attacks the mind.

It rains, but his fire burns on.

He watches as the fated script is played out word for word, smiles and laugh as every line said slowly brings his little brother closer to his death. His smile and laughter are not forced, for he is accustomed to wearing lies, but his hands tremble with rage, guilt, fear and so many more emotions. Love hits him the hardest.

Love is an emotion Yuurei never thought he would capable of. Yuurei is a man of passion. He locks his passion away, deep within his bones. He does the same to his love. Yuurei's love is big and warm and full of thorns. He loves his brothers so much, he will do anything for them, even give up his own freedom for theirs, even hurt them and hurt himself more. And he has. He asks for nothing back.

His love hurts too much to give freely. Loving in silence hurts him more, but he rather hurt himself and hurt them with love twisted into lies, than destroy them with the truth.

Right now, as he gazes upon the bruised and battered bodies of his two beloved little brothers, all he wants to do is tear Akainu to pieces. He wants to scream, shout, and gouge that bastard's eyes out, but all he can do is smile the same empty smile, and hate himself more for that.

* * *

It destroys him, deep down to the core, when those he loves the most look at him with eyes full of mistrust and darkness, knowing he intentionally placed it there.

Like now.

From across the battlefield, Ace's gaze tries to burn a hole into his facade with hate that conceals barely hidden pain and betrayal. Yuurei beams back at him in return. Luffy does not meet his eye.

It hurts to breathe.

Yuurei looks away just in time to dodge a kick from Marco, who glares at him with cold eyes, hard and sharp. It scratches the surface of his mask. Secretly glad for the sudden interruption, Yuurei quickly engages in a deadly dance, phoenix against kitsune.

* * *

It is still raining. The rain never seems to stop. Yuurei is completely soaked. His kimono is thick but it doesn't stop the cold from getting in. It weighs him down, hindering his movement. His marine coat hangs precariously from his narrow build, and his kimono slips off his left shoulder.

He remembers not having rain this early into the war. His presence here changes things. He does not care. Rain or shine, it will not affect the final outcome.

"Lovely weather we're having here. Not be rude, Phoenix-chan, you are a great dance partner," Yuurei says to Marco conversationally, in between blows. Against Marco, he is slightly outclassed but able to keep up with trickery and the use of solid illusions. Red and blue fire clashes against each other, both unwilling to give way. Yuurei wants to speak up again- anything to stop the silence that hangs like thick smog between them. He remembers the furious gazes from his little brothers, and thinks that this tension between them is not much better, and so he moves to get away. "But I'm afraid I must take my leave,"

Beams of light shoot through Marco's body, narrowly missing him. Yuurei springs away from the Phoenix, closer to where Akainu stands. The man barely acknowledges him with a grunt. Yuurei's eyes glint with unsettling light.

He does not know if he wants to do this.

Yuurei isn't used to caring. He floats about in a little bubble of apathy and monotony. The only anchors that keeps him from falling too far are things that interests him enough to pull him out of the hole of detachment, and his obsessions. Yuurei plays with lives like a pampered child playing with toys - toys that will eventually be discarded and exchanged for new ones. He runs circles around people, and use their distrust against them. They will attempt to look past his grinning mask and predict his next move but while they are doing so, he will have advanced the next three steps. Their distrust in him will lead to their downfall, it renders them predictable and _so transparent_ to his eyes - he will take advantage of this and hurt them where it hurts the most with glee and no remorse. He is a being of intellect and impassivity. Inari Yuurei does not care, he watches with mild interest from the sidelines as the world crumbles around him and people scream for their loved ones.

Somewhere along the way, he learns empathy, and the world is so much more colourful and vibrant.

Yuurei erases all traces of emotions and frivolous thoughts from his mind, focusing on his next move. He keeps up the pretense of playing around with the invading forces, monitoring his targets as they speak, from the feel of their haki.

With his monologue spoken, Akainu hurls forward to where Luffy is slumped on the ground, having reached his limits and unable to move _._

Yuurei follows discreetly, illusions hiding his presence. Almost as if on instinct, Ace throws himself in the path of death, desperation colouring his features, shouting out Luffy's name for the world to hear.

Then Yuurei moves.

 ** _...Checkmate?_**

* * *

 **BEFORE**

Before Yuurei, there was Psykhe.

Psykhe wasn't an ordinary child. She was a small, frail, pretty thing, with long platinum blond hair, that went all the way to her lower back. Her skin was the colour of snow, and her eyes an icy blue. She often wore cute, white dresses with pointed black shoes, and walked with a bounce in her step. Her mind was sharper then a knife. People would whisper 'child prodigy', and compliment her angelic features, to which her father would always say that she got them from her mother. Her father would take her everywhere he went, to meet new faces that she would never remember. Every time, Psykhe would put on a pretty smile for the masses to see, twirl around in the newest dress her father bought for her, and dazzle them with her quick wit intelligence. Everyone loved her.

In the large mansion she called home, she would follow the script that she acted out everyday. She'd play 'daddy's little girl' perfectly, take care of her sick mother everyday, and fill the place with her bubbly giggles and laughter.

Psykhe saw the world as it was - a large expanse of black, edges fading into grey to give way to tiny flecks of white.

No one truly saw her. No one could see the blank, blue eyes that gazed upon the world with mockery at every single person fooled by her act. No one saw past the empty smile she pasted on like a second skin. All they could see was the lovely, lovely, girl with blond hair and an angelic smile with a bright future ahead of her.

All they saw were lies.

Psykhe was lonely. She drifted through life without knowing what she was doing, with no purpose, no goal. She took solitude in books, all kinds of books, and devoured them with a hunger. She hid behind layers and layers of lies.

Eventually, it became too much.

She died at the age of seventeen, gripping a rusty old pocket watch with her name scratched on the surface, the empty smile she always wore stretched across her skin.

After Life, there is Death.

* * *

 **NOW**

After Death, there comes new Life.

Inari Yuurei isn't an ordinary child. His small, slender build, and thin wrists belittles his true strength he hides from his adversaries with a terrifying mastery. His platinum blond hair trails all the way to his collarbone, framing his face in such a way that it highlights his angelic features. His skin is the colour of snow, and his eyes, a milky white. He likes to wear long, black kimonos three sizes too big for him, for it makes his opponents underestimate him. He walks the earth with bare feet, showing a grace children his age rarely has, and carries a dark blue paper fan with him everywhere he goes.

Yuurei loves to smile. He smiles all the time, whether happy, sad, furious or fearful... His smile is an ever present fixture on his face. Rarely does anyone get to see him without it. No one can read the man behind that smiling mask. Yuurei likes it that way.

In between the folds of his yukata, is where Yuurei keeps an old pocket watch, rusty and creaky with age. On the back of the pocket watch, there will be a name inscribed onto the surface, written in a strange language only he knows.

Yuurei is born into a clan of nobleship and fighters, on a cold, dark winter night. His grandfather often tells him that he takes after his unnamed mother, with his bright, almost white hair, and his delicate features, which in a family of brunettes, is an oddity. The one thing he does share with the rest of his family, is his pale white eyes. His unnamed mother whom he never knew, gave him the name Yuurei - to match his appearance- upon his birth, before passing into the next life. Yuurei takes all this in with a smile, like everything else.

His grandfather is a constant presence around him, and his father- Inari Yuushi- mostly absent. When they do meet, Yuurei greets him with a cheerful smile and an emotionless "Father". His father responses with a nod, and they do their best avoid each other for the rest of the day. The only connection between them is Yuurei's Grandfather. He dies when Yuurei is four, and the distance between him and his father is suddenly so wide and uncrossable.

Later, Yuurei learns of Pirates and the Grandline that the island they lived on is apparently located in, and he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

(He settles for laughing helplessly.)

Like all the other members of his clan, Yuurei is taught how to fight. He is taught how to disable with a single strike of his palm, taught how to blend in with the general population, taught how to utilize his slender frame to his best advantage, bending and dancing past his enemies at an inhuman speed. He learns to hurt, incorporate strategies and traps into his fighting style and handle dangerous weapon with an ease that should be startling for a child. Of course, he learns other things as well, such as social etiquette and Grandline weather patterns, and things he already knew in his past life like simple mathematics and basic first aid. Eventually, Yuurei learns the delicate art of killing. He trains himself intensely in that area, until he can easily cut someone to pieces with a single wave of his paper fan. It is there where Yuurei finds his niche in.

It takes him a much shorter time than anyone else to learn and refine all his newly attained skills. He is once labeled again labeled a prodigy. The clan treats him with awe, and maybe a little fear, heralding him as their future.

Yuurei makes his first kill at five, and the only thing he does is laugh. Opinions change, and whispers of 'unnatural' and 'demon' are passed around. He is labeled a monster. For the first time in both lives, Yuurei finds himself seen for what he truly is. He isn't quite sure what to think of this new (and interesting) development, so the only thing he does is smile. He smiles through all the hate and fear directed at him, smiles even when almost the whole clan clearly wants him gone.

Not everyone is intolerant of his presence. The servants in his house fear him, but they do not appear to hate him, which is a blessing.

His ninth birthday- a small, private affair- is interrupted with three assassins from within the clan, all aiming for his life. He isn't very surprised, and calmly intercepts them. What surprises him is the rage his father shows.

Yuurei sees Inari Yuushi as a cold hearted man. He keeps his emotions -if he has any- close to himself, never showing them, not even to the people closest to his heart. He doesn't appear to care for Yuurei, not now, not ever, even when the whole clan starts screaming for his blood. He stands strong in the face of the storm, not moving a single inch, calmly maintaining his impressive stoicism and directing the incoming hurricane away, but never stopping to shelter his only son, sometimes even pushing the hail and wind in his direction. In a way, Yuurei muses, the man is much like himself, controlled and unreadable. The only difference is in how they hide things.

Yuurei watches as his assailants are brutally torn to shreds by his father's bare hands, and he thinks that he is not entirely correct. Yuushi's face is as cold as always, and his eyes hard, but his love shines through. He uses his sleeves to wipe away the blood on Yuurei's face and doesn't call him out when Yuurei's constant facade slips for the second time that day, showing surprise and bafflement.

Ever since that day, Yuurei's smile becomes a touch warmer around his father, and maybe a little more genuine. His father continues to act distant and cold, and Yuurei still smiles his unreadable smile, but there is understanding between them. He grows to know that love can be shown in different ways, like his father's harsh, hidden love. He grows to love his father in the same way.

* * *

Yuurei's childhood is divided between training, killing, thwarting more assassinations, learning new ways to kill and more training. By the time the ninety-ninth assassination has come to pass, Yuurei is fourteen. The main clan has grown weary and stopped sending assassins of high caliber to their deaths. As amusing as it all is, Yuurei too began to tire of his current lifestyle.

(Some part of him still wonders why exactly has the whole clan not outright attack them or chase them out of their home. He suspects his father is much more powerful then he appears to be, for the clan to be afraid of him to that extent.)

So, Yuurei and his father decides to leave.

In the wee hours of the morning, the two takes all their willing servants and gracefully glides out of their mansion doors, with only the clothing on their backs and all their money hidden within the sleeves of their clothes. They borrow (with no intention of returning) one of the clan's larger war boats stocked full with food and piles of gold as a metaphorical 'fuck you' to the clan. No one bothers to stop them, glad to finally be rid of their presence.

They travel from one end of the ocean to the other, Yuurei blindly following his father on a never ending journey to wherever he wants to go. The days blur together into weeks and eventually, months.

(Yuurei wastes the first three days of the trip being sea sick, and he smiles dangerously at anyone who dares to bring it up.)

It takes approximately three months, two weeks and 5 days for Yuurei's father to decide on an island to settle down in, and most of that time is spent traversing the paradise part of the Grandline in their little war ship, avoiding pirates and utterly trashing them when they do meet, relieving said pirates of their gold and finally, crossing the calm belt into East Blue. The Sea Kings all do not seem to have noticed their ship, which is probably the work of the Seastone lining at the bottom of their ship.

Yuurei isn't very sure as to why are they in East Blue, the weakest sea amongst all the four blues. He doesn't question his father, and decides to enjoy the peace while he still can. The calm seas and lack of wannabe pirates attacking them left and right is a nice change from the never ending storms and constant danger of Grandline.

They end up in Goa Kingdom, Dawn Island. Goa Kingdom is surrounded by mountains and forests, and is rumoured to be one of the cleanest cities to exist. Something about it triggers his memories a little, a constant itch in the back of his mind, but eventually, he dismisses it.

With the money they 'liberated' from the many generous donors in the Grandline, they buy a large manor conveniently located at the base of the mountains, far away from civilization but close enough to still be considered part of the kingdom. No one wants to buy the mansion because of the distance away the main city, so even when the two Inari show up out of no where with millions of belli, the sellers are more than happy to sell it to them. Anyone who looks at them funny are quickly quelled in the face of Yuurei's smile and Yuushi's stony visage. So, after many years of fighting and keeping his guard up lest he loses his life, Yuurei finally allows himself to relax, just a little.

Slowly, they assimilate into the society of Goa Nobles and rich bigotry. With the money they have, the way they carry themselves with grace and their exotic looks, the society around them slowly grows accustomed to their presence, and they easily pass off as Nobles of a different land. They do nothing to discourage this. Within two weeks, they have the Nobles thoroughly fooled.

Yuurei falls into a life of peace and normalcy, and he hates every single second of it. He does what he can to entertain himself and pretends to be happy and satisfied. He slowly begins a collection of cacti, listlessly watering them once a week. He goes around town, buying strange and expensive things to fill up his room. In the morning, he tries to spend his time productively by training and trying to figure out the usage of Haki. In the afternoon, he amuses himself by meandering through the Kingdom of Goa, exploring a different street everyday. Evenings usually meant sessions with his father, which consists of two unreadable and dangerous people facing each other in awkward silence and the drinking of herbal tea. At night, Yuurei ambles up the mountains and through the forests at a slow pace, stopping occasionally to take in the scenery. He feigns interest in everything he is doing so he doesn't go back to being who he was before, doesn't become that little lost girl again.

(Ten years down the road, he realizes that he had always been that lost little girl, with no dream and no goal, but this time with a reason to live.)

There is no excitement. Just boredom. Yuurei grows more listless as the days pass by, and he knows it. His smile gains an edge, and his sparring sessions with his father are more violent and bloody. Soon after, his appetite dwindles, so he rarely bothers with dinner and lunch, skipping them more often than not in favour of his cacti collection. Even when he shows up, he just picks at his food despite the servants and his father's disapproval, excuses himself early with a grin that dares any one of them to say anything, and leaves the house. At night, Yuurei finds himself unable to sleep, despite the weariness his body feels. His mind is too active, and his fingers itch for action. This goes on for around two months, until Yuurei finally passes out from the stress his body takes. He wakes up to shredded sheets. His personal butler tells him that he did it in his sleep with his bare hands.

Both his father and the servants monitor him much closely after that. He spends two weeks after his collapse bedridden, twitchy and bored, not allowed to venture out into town. The cooks try to feed him more even when he isn't willing, and sometimes a particularly daring maid will tuck him into bed. They fret and worry over his state, check to see if he has been drinking enough water and warn him not to over tax his body. Yuurei is a little overwhelmed with all this attention. The servants in his house generally avoids interacting with him, probably unnerved by how unusual he is for a teenage boy. Perhaps his collapse had something to do with it, as they no longer look at him as though he is otherworldly and inhuman.

Why do they care anyway?

Regardless, Yuurei smiles through all this. He occupies his time by bothering and disturbing the servants, pushing all their buttons until they snap. Then he does nice things for them on occasion, which makes them wary at what he might pull next, until they realise that the presents and things he does for them are genuine (or as genuine as it can get). They tolerate his irritating pranks and meddling more often then not, with some degree of fondness after that.

He finds more things to do, like calligraphy, collecting books and helping the gardener- anything to not let the dangerous wave of dullness sweep him away like before. It isn't very effective.

Then, he finds a little blond boy with blue eyes and an out-of-place scowl on his face, fighting against two other boys in a side alley. Yuurei isn't a good person, and he has no obligations to help the blond boy, but something about the boy compels him to.

So he does.

* * *

A dangerous smile and a step towards their direction is enough to send the boys running, presumably to where their parents are, to whine and complain about the scary man who dared to threaten them.

Blondy looks as though he wants to run after them as well, and he grips his pipe in a death grip, pointing it towards Yuurei in a suitably threatening fashion. Yuurei is unimpressed. Still, he switches his predatory smile for something friendlier, and opens his paper fan to dramatize the situation for his own amusement. His smile brightens a few notches at the slightly incredulous expression on the child's face.

"It isn't very nice of you to point a weapon in the face of your savior," He points out. Blondy warily lowers his weapon. Yuurei's friendly smile slowly tilts into a playful smirk.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He teases. Blondy's scowl deepens. It scrunches his face up in a way that people might call cute. Yuurei just squats down and reaches over to ruffle the blond's hair, ignoring the way he flinches, and how his eyes squeeze shut. So many tells, so many ways to read him. The boy wears his heart out on his sleeves, and is easier to read than a book.

Blondy's eyes are wide open and he touches his own head in surprise and mild shock, like no one has ever done that to him before, and Yuurei wants to laugh, because in his distraction, the boy has completely let his guard down. Instead, he smiles, hiding his silent mockery behind the stretch of his mouth. So easy to fool, just like the others.

(He ignores the familiarity he feels with the boy, as they have never met before beyond this day unless they have and he just forgot, which is preposterous.)

"So Blondy, what's your name?" He asks. It isn't out of curiosity or anything like that, just mild boredom.

The blond raises an eyebrow. "Why do you want to know?"

Yuurei maintains his smirk. "Because I'm curious?" Lies, all lies. The corners of his empty mask tilts up just a bit more, and he speaks again.

"You can call me Yuurei. It's okay if you don't want to tell me, calling you Blondy is all right in my books,"

"My name isn't blondy," Not-Blondy pauses, and Yuurei can tell that he is questioning the wisdom of telling a suspicious person he only just met his name. Smart boy. Yuurei smiles and tilt his head to the left, fiddling with the fan with his right hand. Eventually he gives and Yuurei knows he has won.

The blond looks up, blue eyes jaded yet still shining with innocence. "It's Sabo."

Yuurei feels the world narrow down until it's just him and the boy. He wants to laugh, cry, scream and shout, but he does not. He doesn't believe in fate nor destiny, only coincidences. Now, he isn't sure what to think any more.

He can only smile.

* * *

"So, Sabo was it?" Smile, smile. The boy is still wary. Smile until he isn't.

"...Yes?" Yuurei is rewarded with an answer. A guarded answer, but still an answer nonetheless. He slams his palm down onto Sabo's head, giving him a good hair ruffling. Sabo shouts and tries to push his hands off. He fails miserably.

"How fitting, a cute name for a cute boy!" Yuurei grins. "Call me Rei-nii, okay?"

"Wha- My name isn't cute! And there's no way I'm calling you that!" The boy flails about.

"Don't be shy, Sabo-chan~"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT EITHER!"

* * *

Yuurei glides down the street, smile firmly pasted onto his face. He attracts many admiring stares and whispers, and he politely nods back at a few haughty greetings, used to this routine after a month of exploring the streets of Goa. Sabo sticks close to his side, uncomfortable with all the attention.

"Is that the most esteemed Young Lord Inari Yuurei-" A young lady whispers. She is quickly cut off by her friends when Yuurei peers at them and nods, and they giggle and cover their blushing faces with their fans. Yuurei ignores all this and continues his leisurely amble down his chosen path, Sabo trotting by his side with wide eyes.

"I heard he and his father came to this Kingdom on a ship full of treasure," A man murmurs, eyes full of awe. Others turn to look at Yuurei enviously yet with reluctant respect. One skeptic raises a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, I believe the ship is still there, by the docks." The man replies, certainty in his voice. The group exchanges a few more whispers, before briskly striding down to the docks, backs ramrod straight. They don't run like barbarians, they are of nobility after all.

More whispers are traded from left to right, and it makes Yuurei want to giggle a little from their idiocy. He finds it funny how money and human stupidity can build such a convenient illusion.

"His style of dressing resembles the Nobles from West Blue! I've seen them wear strange clothing like his, made of the finest silk!"

"Such a polite young man! I find it hard to believe that he is only fifteen- children his age usually act rebellious and rude. Why, I heard that he helped Madame Roseau when a bunch of unruly boys pushed her down, and even escorted her home!" With every word said, the disbelief on Sabo's face grows. He catches Sabo staring up at him in wonderment and a little fear more than once. Good. The boy is right to fear him.

There are a few stray glances thrown in Sabo's direction, and Yuurei can see that the boy is regretting his decision to follow Yuurei. He hides a devious smirk.

A small girl with green hair and a dirty, pink dress filled with patches, stumbles down the road, chasing after a butterfly. Normal civilians and the rich alike all avoids her like she carries a disease. As she runs, her bare feet stubs against a stray rock, and she falls down onto the hard tarmac, scraping her knees and elbows.

No one bothers to help her up.

The girl gets up, unstable. Her legs wobble but she tried to keep on walking, and falls again.

Yuurei surveys all of this happen with a critical eye. He looks down, and sees Sabo biting his lips, a scowl on his face, and with clenched fists. Yuurei's lips tilt upwards even more. He can see the man he will become in the future, but right now he is just a mere shade of who he will be.

His fan snaps open, startling the blond boy, and he steps forward to squat before the child. Sabo freezes two paces behind him.

Yuurei may be a liar and a monster, but he knows kindness, and understands how to use it to his advantage.

The bystanders barely hide their gasps of horror and affronted looks as they watch, and Yuurei knows what they are thinking. He can see right through them. But Yuurei ignores all this, reaches within the depths of his loose Kimono, and takes out a roll of bandages. He obligingly takes out a small bag of sweets and hands it to the girl, and wraps her wounds.

By then, a small crowd has gathered. Nobles are not known for their kindness, and to see one doing such a thing, as small of a deed it may be, is strange and alien.

A woman steps out of the gathering. Yuurei easily identifies her as one of the Nobles with greater influence. The woman is rather pleasant to the sight, which is surprising, considering how most of Nobility tend to be not so pleasant in both their insides and outsides. The woman walks with a flowing sort of gait, quite similar to Yuurei's way of walking. She wears a large, blue and white dress with an ungodly number of frills and a large black hat decorated extravagantly by roses and daisies. She looks upon everything with an air of indifference.

"Young Lord Inari," She begins. Her voice is lyrical. The people hushes before her. "Why do you dirty your hands with the filth of commoners like that?" She wrinkles her nose and gestures to the small girl, who happy stumbles away. The crowd nods in agreement.

Yuurei stands up to speak. "Kindness is a rare gem, My Lady," He does not speak to the Noble Woman alone, but all who is watching. He knows just what to say, to turn the tides to his favor. His voice does not have the same quality as the woman's, but is no less musical. "Us Nobles do have such qualities within us, do we? We help the needy, showing our inner kindness and mercy that the world now lacks." Lie, lie, lie.

There is silence. Everyone holds their breath. Yuurei keeps his smile.

The Noble woman inclines her head. "Perhaps," She simply says. She turns around and disappears into the crowd.

The silence hangs in the air for a few seconds. The whispering starts again. This time, there is not only admiration but also adoration visible in their eyes. ( _It feels disgusting._ )

Yuurei smiles cheerfully in their direction and peers down to where Sabo is still frozen, so he snaps his fingers in front of his face. It seems to do the trick. Sabo jolts awake, points a shaking finger in his direction and splutters for words, forgetting all his cultivated manners.

This time Yuurei doesn't bother hiding his amusement. Sabo is a confusing mix of hilariously adorable, intelligent and exciting. Sabo is interesting. Yuurei likes interesting. And Sabo is so much fun to play with.

He gently pushes the younger blond forward. "Come along Sabo-chan, don't get left behind."

Sabo looks like he wants to say something but knows better than to do so, surrounded by so many people. He chooses to follow Yuurei instead and Yuurei beams in approval.

* * *

Evening steadily approaches. The streets clear. Yuurei glances down at the blond boy still attached to his side, and hides his smile with his fan. Calculating eyes stare at the blond's lowered head. He hasn't said a single word since then.

"What's the matter Sabo-Chan? Why so silent?" Yuurei pokes the boy's forehead with his fan. He already knows the answer. Surprisingly, Sabo does not make any movement to push his fan away.

"...How?" He asks. Yuurei tilts his head to the side, and does his best to look quizzical while smiling. "How what?"

"How did yo- How powerful are you, Lo-Lord Inari? You treated Lady Feriza like an equal, which is unheard of this days." Sabo asks. The Noble nature of his upbringing shows. Yuurei knows why the boy is suddenly making an effort to be polite. By speaking to the Noble Lady- Lady Feriza- in such a way, he has proven himself to be of equal or greater standing to her, and guessing from how Sabo is acting, more powerful than him.

Thankfully, doing so hasn't backfired on him.

Yuurei looks at the little boy again, clearly struggling to be polite, and decides to take pity on him.

"No need formalities with me, Sabo-Chan. Like what I said before, call me Rei-nii, okay? None of that 'Lord' nonsense from you."

Sabo openly gapes.

"But Lord Inari-" Yuurei's smile dims. He turns to face Sabo, grabs his cheeks and pulls gently.

"Call me Rei-nii, Sabo-chan. Rei. Nii." Yuurei grins at the boy. Some of his murderous intent shows and Sabo complies hurriedly.

"Got it! Rei-nii! Rei-nii! Now let me go!" Yuurei goes from pulling his cheeks to hair ruffling, and Sabo openly scowls at him, much to his pleasure.

"So uncute, you really ought to smile more."

"I'm not trying to be cute! And who'd smile at a weirdo like you?!"

* * *

Yuurei goes home with a smile on his face, like every other day. His father, dressed in his usual traditional Yukata, greets him with an impassive stare that demands to know the reason for his late arrival. Yuurei has never been late after all.

"Apologies for my tardiness, father," Yuurei smiles and sits down opposite him. The tea is still steaming hot. He takes a small sip of it.

"What is your reason?" Yuushi's voice visibly startles him, and he pauses, weighing the consequences of answering the question. He settles for a vague truth.

"I got distracted by an interesting little Noble," He says. "He is too adorable and fun to play with, I simply cannot resist him."

Yuushi simply nods. Yuurei is curious by the easy acceptance, so he looks into his father's eyes, and is startled by the small glimmer of approval and pleasure in his white orbs.

* * *

So, I've been reading lots of OC stories lately in my long period of absence, and this happened.

Regarding my lack of chapters being posted on my other fanfic (For those of you who read it), it is not abandoned, on Hiatus, or any shit. It's just hard to come up with ideas for a new chapter when I have no idea where I'm going with the plot.

Come to think of it, I started writing this with no actual plan for the story beyond _okay, lets get a psychopathic main character who is probably over powered but I don't give a shit to interact with my favourite characters and form a creepy attachment with them._

 **Oh well.**


End file.
